


Lady Ice

by Blue_Immortal_2183



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Deception, Gen, Intrigue, Mystery, OCs Can Be Well-Written
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:11:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Immortal_2183/pseuds/Blue_Immortal_2183
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skayla Nadrani has been battling demons within and without for two centuries. But when her past comes back to haunt her, she has no choice but to take up the offer of a mysterious salarian, formerly with the STG. Along with a disgraced human C-Sec operative, this trio will risk it all in a precarious mission where absolutely nothing is as it first appears.<br/>This work is set within the same continuity as my previous fic, “Defector”, and takes place at around the time of Mass Effect 2. Familiarity with said fic is *not required*, though it provides a richer experience for the reader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

 

The entire room was cloaked in stifling shadow, save for a few ribbons of moonlight which had faded in through a couple of windows here and there. Skayla Nadrani stood over her captive, holding her boot fast against the aggressor's chest. In the dimly-lit expanse, Skayla's dark commando leathers only enhanced her phantom-like presence. Yet, despite Skayla's many, many years of experience, nothing could have prepared her for this horrifying moment.

As she stood, her M-8 Avenger trained on the other asari with unwavering precision, her face contorted, and a single tear fell from her eye.

“I knew it,” the other asari stated weakly, “You can't do it, can you?”

Skayla held still, unable to fathom in their entirety the implications of this event. Regardless, her rifle began to tremble in her hand – an unheard-of occurrence for a commando as seasoned as this one.

“Go ahead, Skayla,” the defeated figher spoke with mocking audacity, “Do it. You _have_ to, don't you? Kill me!”

Skayla closed her eyes, turning her head slightly away from the catastrophic twist of fate which lay before her.

“ _Kill me, Skayla. Do it. Kill me!_ ”

Skayla refused further, restraining herself as she turned back to face the individual she was still holding down with iron force. Mustering up as much willpower as she could, and attempting to regain her composure, Skayla protested, “Why? Why would you do this? Why did you –”

“It shouldn't be that hard to figure out, Skayla. You remember what happened, right? It's only been a century or so.”

“But why did you just give in? I _know_ you! You're –”

“I'm yours to kill, Skayla,” the quarry spat venomously. “That's what I am. Now why don't you grow a spine and _do it already?_ ”

“I...” Skayla stammered, raising her firearm once again.

As she began to pull the trigger, time seemed to slow to a crawl. Sounds became flustered and distorted (though the veteran commando could easily hear her captive chanting her death-wish). The darkness seemed to destroy everything in the room except for the two asari, and Skayla suddenly felt like she was witnessing events from outside her body.

“I'm sorry!” Skayla cried as the bolt fired from her rifle.

With a deafening blast, all went black, and the commando woke up.

 

* * *

 

As the asari militant rose from her slumber with a yell, she experienced powerful disorientation. Only after a few seconds of heavy breathing and sensory overload was she able to discern where she was. To her relief, she was in her bed on Thessia, the warm light of its sun filling the room with early morning resplendence. The panic was already beginning to subside, and her rich brown eyes began to lose their wild flame. As she laid back down, still panting and perspiring noticeably, she closed her eyes and, with one hand to her bowed forehead, muttered, “Dammit...”

At that moment, the movement of another person in the bed made Skayla jump, still on-edge from the dream. The quick reflex jostled her companion from her sleep just as she was about to nest into the commando's arm, and she awoke.

“Skayla?” the other asari groggily asked, “What's wrong?”

Looking deeply troubled, Skayla stared down at her lap, replying, “It's nothing, Sira. Go back to bed.”

At this, Sira Belyris rose from her pillow to meet Skayla with a gentle kiss to the cheek, asserting with a considerate look, “I don't believe you.”

Sira was a tall, slender asari, and was graceful even by the standards of her species. The graduate of the Political Academy of Illyria possessed a very light-blue skin tone which almost appeared to absorb the light around her. Sira's ornate crimson facial markings served a powerful contrast to this pigmentation, as did her glistening eyes, dark green like jade. Had she been wearing any clothes at this particular moment in time, her fashion sense would surely have been the envy of all those around her, though her skill at mediation was by far her greatest asset.

Skayla's husky, muscular frame presented itself as a perfect complement to her lover's appearance, and the harshness of her body was a testament to the battles she had won over nearly 200 years of service. Her skin tone was difficult to describe, resting firmly between sea green and turquoise. Sheer and brilliant, it was emblematic of her resilience. Her facial markings consisted of white slashes starkly extending up her cheeks and chin, two on each side. They resembled whiskers somewhat, though Skayla herself never thought of them this way.

Turning to face Sira, Skayla spoke, “Really, it's nothing to worry about. Thanks for your concern.”

Sira's expression turned to sadness, and as her brow furrowed, she got out of bed and began to dress herself.

“I wish you'd let me in on things more,” the asari negotiator stated, a hurt tone in her voice. “How can I help if you don't let me?”

Skayla rose up next, walking over to Sira and embracing her from behind.

“There's nothing for you to help me with, Sira,” the veteran soldier assured in a gentle voice, pressing her cheek against that of her lover. “You trust me, don't you?”

Sira was unconvinced, but the warmth of Skayla's embrace was too irresistible to break away from. It was the wonderful woman behind her who had given her back her life.

It had been no less than 13 years since Sira had weathered a run-in with a particularly despicable man. The person in question had been a fellow classmate at the Political Academy, and had seemed at first to be a wonderful individual. Soon after the pair had begun dating, however, the man's issues became readily apparent to Sira, and it was upon her confrontation of these problems that he truly showed himself to be dangerous. To this day, Sira felt that she had been lucky to survive that encounter, and, since that time, she had found it remarkably difficult to trust a human.

The negotiator inside her reviled this reflex – she had been raised with a devout belief in the equality of all species – but she had found it entirely inescapable. Unable to even entertain the idea of falling in love with another person again – human or otherwise – Sira withdrew into a formidable depression, diverting herself from this by relentlessly working towards her graduation.

After the prodigious student had graduated, however, she found no other way to console herself. Unable to escape from her problems, Sira Belyris led an increasingly empty life for the next four years, until a fateful encounter in a bar on Thessia changed everything.

Sira had arrived at said establishment with no real aim in mind; it had simply been a way to kill time whilst getting away from her work. At a nearby table, however, she had spotted a lone asari in full commando regalia. Such a sight was already fairly uncommon in such a place; however, what had truly arrested Sira was the deep sadness which the commando had showcased as she frowned, staring down at her table. This had piqued her interest for two reasons: not only was it very strange for a presumably battle-hardened commando to show such profound emotion – especially in public – but the soldier's expression also instantly reminded Sira of her own struggles. It was for this last reason, in particular, that Sira had felt compelled to approach Skayla, so dominated was her constitution by this bizarre twist of fate. Even now, nine years after the fact, Sira regretted nothing.

However, Sira and Skayla's relationship had still proven arduous. Romantic relationships between two asari had been frowned upon in their society for milennia, and Skayla had found herself imploring her companion to keep their relationship a secret – lest it cause a scandal and cost both of them their careers. Not only that, but the age difference had also proven an issue, especially when the two were together in public. Whereas Sira was in the prime of her maiden stage – merely 123 years old – Skayla was heading for her matron stage, herself 315 years of age. Though the disparity fortunately had yet to affect their relationship with eachother, it was certainly conspicuous to those around them. This had proven to be another cause for the lovers to keep their romance confidential, though such caution also often depressed the pair greatly.

“I trust you,” Sira spoke quietly, smiling and stroking Skayla's arm despite her true sentiment.

“That's good,” Skayla replied, a smile breaking across her face now that she had recovered somewhat from her nightmare. She planted an affectionate kiss on the cheek she had been nuzzling only a moment previously, and it made Sira's spine shiver. Perhaps she always _had_ been a romantic at heart, but the asari mediator had found herself more than just a romantic encounter with Skayla – she had found herself _security_. Peace of mind. The ability to trust another person again. That was what really mattered, at the end of the day.

Maybe Skayla just wasn't ready to talk; it was doubtless that she would be eventually.

It was all-the-more important to Sira , due to the nature of this day, that Skayla talk. The morning had proven to be tranquil enough, but Skayla had been kind enough to inform her lover that she would be deploying today. Not only that, but the mission would involve training a new commando in a live field operation, something that would significantly ratchet up the risk of the assignment. Of course, this was nothing new to Skayla; she had been running live training operations like this for perhaps the last half-century (though only for those operatives who showed particular promise). Nevertheless, it made Sira anxious, even more so than with normal deployments; it didn't exactly make her feel great that her lover's only backup was a relative newcomer.

The duo eventually made their way downstairs, and continued with their morning routine. Their meal proved to be almost-entirely silent, not so much out of tension as out of general unease. Skayla was well-aware of Sira's misgivings regarding the mission, but, try as she might, she had thus far found herself unable to console the diplomat. It was nothing to worry about, of course; she had been on countless missions like this, and it was doubtless that she would yet embark on countless more. That was another reason for her number one requirement that all operatives being taught by her show great promise: not only did her reputation preclude all other possibilities, but there was less likelihood of her – or her squad – being compromised if their skills functioned at the highest possible level.

Moreover, her reputation had become so well-known that she even had a particular title, a nickname that haunted her as much as it was intended to flatter her.

But Sira didn't need to know about that.

After perhaps a couple more quiet hours, Skayla got to her feet, and said her goodbye to Sira. They embraced one last time before the veteran commando left.

 

* * *

 

Jelan Doresh and his squad of salarian officers walked cautiously through the thick jungles of Sur'Kesh, diligently observing their surroundings with great care. The jungles were already well-known for being dangerous due to the local wildlife, but the omnipresent threat of a silent aggressor seeking to terminate the person they were escorting only made things more strenuous. Their mission was simple, in theory: escort the specified individual to an emergency bunker located approximately three kilometres from the location of extraction. However, it was always putting the plan into practice which proved challenging, and, considering the formidable credentials of their adversary, this particular mission was a true test of the squad's capabilities.

As the squad leader's large eyes darted around the scene, his off-green skin providing a natural camouflage against the primal backdrop of untamed foliage, he grew anxious. He knew, even if the others under his direction did not, that his every move was being monitored, manipulated, observed from afar. It was only a matter of time before they sprung their trap. Assignments like this were less about efficiency in the traditional sense, and more about the careful, obsessive, and ceaseless troubleshooting of every possible adverse circumstance. Indeed, the more successful a mission was, the more of a non-event it ultimately proved to be. Such was salarian military protocol – end a war before it even began.

“Das,” Jelan spoke in a hushed voice to their tech expert, still not breaking eye contact from the landscape ahead, “How close are we to the objective?”

After a few seconds of inputting commands into his omni-tool, Das replied, “one-and-a half kilometres, sir.”

_We aren't making enough progress,_ Jelan contemplated as he simultaneously kept watch, _We're about a kilometre behind schedule._

As worried as Jelan was, however, he realized incontrovertibly that it would be worse to rush things. The mission came first, and, in this case, this meant that the individual being escorted came first. To compromise perfect focus even slightly would be to inevitably compromise the entire operation.

The squad's tech, Das, was focusing on goings-on from the left, whereas the team's sharpshooter, Tavin, was instead focusing attention on the right side of the formation. All three operatives were quite-skilled in their respective specialties (Jelan's being infantry tactics), and were natural picks for this mission. All three, as well, had the discipline and maturity to realize that things such as commendations and promotions were not meant to be actively aspired to in themselves; rather, they were emblems of service well-spent, and signified the entrusting of greater responsibilities to their recipients. Needless to say, each member of the trio was fully-dedicated to their military, and, by extension, to their people.

The only caveat, then, was that there were only three officers escorting; consequently, they could not focus their attention on the rear. Their adversary, unfortunately, had taken note of this, and was about to use it to their advantage.

Activating his tactical cloak, the assailant emerged from the jungle brush with no sound whatsoever, inching his way slowly-but-surely into a solid line of fire. He had taken care to already draw his sniper rifle before having arrived on the scene, so as to avoid creating excess noise when uncollapsing it. With steady, flawless aim, the stealthy assassin planted a single shot in the back of the target's unprotected skull, ending his enemy's mission instantly.

So silent was the assassin, that it took a couple of moments for Jelan to notice that the synthetic VI had been dispatched. He turned around, finding that Das and Tavin were both too shocked by the immediacy of the event to say anything. The assailant, meanwhile, had slunk back into the tangle just as effortlessly as he had come out, and, still completely silent, disengaged his cloak. After advancing through the foliage to the side of the path the squad had been walking on, he made a point of rustling nearby grass as he stepped out in front of the squad, as if to hit home the fact that he was able to eliminate his quarry without its protectors even noticing.

The assassin, also a salarian, possessed a grizzled, wrinkled face. His earthy skin-tone reminded one of stones or mud, and proved to be a different variety of natural camouflage. However, the greatest feature adorning his face was the massive, thin, white scar which extended in a brazen slash from above his left eye to just below his left lip.

“Jelan,” the pursuer spoke with sternness, “You disappoint me. You failed to pinpoint a key deficiency in your squad formation.”

Jelan frowned as the pursuer crossed his arms. “I apologize, Instructor Renas,” he lamented. “I was so worried about the possibility of a frontal assault, I neglected to take into account a rear attack.”

“Had this been a real mission, you would have failed utterly. Not only that, but you would have readily invited an ambush. Such negligence rarely allows a squad to escape alive, let alone accomplish their objective successfully.”

Jelan said nothing, his expression one of shame. Despite this, his mentor seemed to wish merely to inform the squad, not demoralize it.

“You are a very talented soldier, Jelan,” the instructor said as he placed a hand on his protégé's shoulder. “You just need to practice more. You aren't used to leading a squad. I'm sorry, but I'm not comfortable with authorizing you as a potential squad commander just yet.”

Defeated, Jelan nodded weakly, barely able to bring himself to make eye contact with the Instructor. “Alright, sir. I understand.”

“Good. Now, then,” Renas spoke as he turned his attention to all three squad members, “I have some business that I must attend to. You are all to report back to base within the next twenty minutes. I suggest you move quickly.”

With that, the instructor began to walk away, leaving the trio as quickly as he had arrived. Das and Tavin, meanwhile, attempted to console their drained leader.

“Don't beat yourself up, sir,” Das commented with empathy. “We should have been more careful about checking the rear. It's an obvious point.”

Sensing that Das' relation of the blatancy of Jelan's failure wasn't exactly helping matters, Tavin continued, “And besides, Instructor Renas is something else. It's an honour in itself that we're working with the guy. He's practically an STG.”

As Instructor Renas continued walking away, he overheard Tavin's comment. A bitter smile cracked across his face.

 

* * *

 

As Olis Renas stepped into his apartment on the salarian homeworld, he retired to his study to begin work on a very important personal project. One of the good things about Olis' current position was the schedule: he generally was only required to train recruits for a few hours a day. This, however, was cold comfort at best for a person of Olis' former stature, and the gravity of his loss had driven the grizzled and aging salarian veteran to obsession.

His study was reasonably small, housing just a single chair and a few accompanying terminals; but it wasn't the size of the room that mattered. It was the amount of data that room could hold.

With the help of these unassumingly vast reservoirs of digital information, Olis had managed to put together the comprehensive folio he needed in order to put his plan into action. For three long years, Olis had waited for this point, and it was finally coming to fruition.

It was about time, too – at 35 years old, Olis was beginning to push the limits of salarian vitality. He had been patient, but he knew that if he didn't set everything up now, he wasn't likely to get another chance. That was something Olis flatly refused to let happen, so he sat down at one of the terminals and immediately began debriefing himself one final time.

If he was going to claim his retribution, he required a squad. Considering his demotion to Instructor – and the circumstances thereof – he knew he couldn't rely on his fellow salarians in the military. In fact, this mission broke countless regulations within the government framework he had so passionately fought to defend in the past. But he had spent the last decade of his short life serving his people, and he felt only justified in doing a small thing like this for himself. He owed himself the taste of vengeance.

Olis was a fine sharpshooter, and reasoned that a person specializing in covert infiltration would thus compliment his skills nicely. Olis had luckily found the perfect individual for the job, and, what was even better, she had experienced a particular event in her past which would undoubtedly make her more... malleable, should the need for persuasion arise. Olis also required a tech expert, however, and had been looking at a candidate for quite some time. He possessed extraordinary skill, but unlike Olis' other candidate, possessed no obvious inner demons or other flaws. Not only that, but he wasn't likely to agree to the type of operation Olis was hatching.

As the veteran militant puzzled, he sat back for a few minutes and sighed, unsure of what to do in this situation. He needed to find some way to turn his final candidate over to his cause, but even the most-labyrinthine of deceptions wasn't likely to sway him enough. In frustrated resignation, Olis turned his attention back to the file dedicated to his quarry, deciding to check on the whereabouts thereof, as he infrequently had throughout his planning. Doing so required immense precision, sufficient to make even this seasoned operative perspire; not only did he need to maintain total anonymity, but he needed to quickly figure out which files to steal, and then needed to extract them without leaving a trace of his undertaking. He was no expert in tech affairs, but his training had included advanced study in this area regardless. After a few minutes of intense concentration, Olis managed to do it, and he was surprised greatly by what he found.

Initially, he wouldn't have surmised that he would have found anything. His adversary had gone into relative hiding for a reasonable while – as people in his profession often did after particularly close shaves – and it had been many months since Olis had managed to dig up any new information on him. This time, however, he found something that changed everything.

In the span of a few seconds, his plan suddenly became a strictly-contingency venture. Fate, it seemed, had given him the opportunity he had been waiting for, and immediately, his mind began busily working out the details of his new approach.

 

* * *

 

“Alright, we're in pursuit,” the turian spoke, keeping his grim stare fixated directly at the target he was tailing. “Leyla, do you have a visual?”

“Not yet, sir,” the voice of a female human responded via earpiece. “Should I attempt to get closer?”

“That's a negative. We're already too close as it is. He's bound to get edgy if we close in any more.”

The C-Sec Enforcement Division detachment assigned to the command of Sergeant Gramus Destin was on that most-dangerous of precipices: that which teetered precariously between relative non-experience and innate talent. The one member of the squad which didn't expressly fall under this category, was, ironically, the closest thing to a liability it had.

Taylor Burkland, a 28-year old officer possessing a passable stature and close-cropped brown hair, had gained a reputation as both a dedicated serviceperson and an unpredictable braggart. Though he possessed a genuine passion to ensure the safety of the Citadel and its denizens, he also was unafraid to show off his admittedly-impressive tech aptitude – sometimes to the detriment of his fellow squadmates. Currently, Taylor was stationed behind the scenes, preparing finishing touches on a bug in a nearby transaction terminal.

The team had been directed to assail a suspected red sand smuggler aboard the Citadel. So far, the Investigation Division had managed to dig up some rather incriminating details on the man, though they had only managed to trace his proverbial paper trail as far as an illicit business deal. To make the arrest, however, they required one more measure – proof of transaction. This same measure was being processed by Taylor as a test of his abilities; Gramus could only hope that his decision didn't come back to bite him, as humans often said.

“Burkland,” Gramus stated gruffly, not wishing to come off as soft to this worrisome wild card, “Are you finished activating the bug?”

“Almost, sir,” Taylor replied quietly, though not without a subtle hint of mischief permeating his voice.

“Good.”

“Sir, I have a visual,” Leyla suddenly rasped, trying to keep her voice at a covert level. “He's headed straight for the terminal. Looks like this operation's gonna go off without a hitch.”

Gramus ordered, his voice still as unwavering as before, “Don't get full of yourself just yet, Leyla.” Turning in the general direction of the terminal in an attempt to see the quarry with his own eyes, the seasoned turian muttered, “Taylor, get out of there. You've done enough.”

Taylor, who was still kneeling by the terminal, had already taken too long to perform a routine act, and this had slightly unnerved the anxious Gramus. The cocky human, however, merely replied, “Not just yet, sir. I still have one more thing to do here.”

A wave of frustrated panic cascading instantly through him, Gramus hissed, “ _What?_ You were supposed to have finished up by now!”

“Sarge, the target's almost at the terminal.” Leyla updated her CO, “I still have a solid visual. Should I move to distract him?”

“Negative, Leyla!” Gramus snapped, though still not raising his voice substantially enough to arouse suspicion in the multitude of civilians around him. The sergeant menacingly addressed, “Burkland! Get your ass out of there right now, or I swear I'll –”

“Done, Sergeant,” Taylor asserted with a sense of cryptic duty. “Leaving the area now.”

True to his word, the living heart attack managed to vacate the immediate area mere moments before their target walked up to it. Immediately, the shady figure, a tall, dark-haired human male of presumably-Hellenic descent, began inputting the necessary data. Almost as quickly, Taylor dropped his catch, stating, “I put a little something extra into the bug's programming.”

His mind again filling with dread, Gramus hesitated before fearfully asking, “What do you mean, 'a little something extra'?”

“Just something to help us catch the perp. Nothing too big. I have it under control.”

Gramus merely grasped incredulously for a rebuttal intense enough to express his horror and anger, but was interrupted by a sudden shout of pain from across the room. The target was obviously in immense agony – and it wasn't subsiding.

“What the – this shouldn't be happening!”

Taylor's panicked voice didn't reassure Gramus in the slightest, but it _did_ tip him off to exactly who was at fault for the current complication. He wasn't surprised, of course, but that didn't make the matter any less urgent.

The team's cover had no doubt been blown by this point anyway, and therefore, the sergeant felt no urge to make his hurried walk to the scene of the problem subtle. As soon as he saw what was happening, he was shocked.

The target was being fried alive by countless volts of electricity, presumably cooked up by Taylor's addition to the bug. It only took Gramus a couple of seconds to figure out what had gone wrong: Taylor had attempted to simply incapacitate the smuggler with a mild shock, enough to subdue him for arrest. Unfortunately, it now seemed as though Taylor had overestimated his own talents, and, as Gramus watched helplessly – for there was no way for him to help without being electrocuted himself – he noticed a large crowd of horrified people beginning to amass, outraged and terrified by the deadly display.

“ _Shit! Shit! I can't disable it!_ ” Taylor exclaimed thoughtlessly as he frantically put in commands on his omni-tool. “ _Come on, come on!_ ”

Within a handful of seconds further, the smuggler's lifeless body fell to the floor backwards, badly burned and still twitching from the merciless electrical barrage. Leyla arrived at the scene as the electrocution finally subsided, and, upon shouldering her way through the crowd and witnessing the cadaverous exhibition for herself, the Hispanic brunette brought a hand to her mouth, stammering, “Oh, my god...”

As Taylor finished toying with his omni-tool, he sighed in relief, apparently having disabled the bug successfully. His head rose, and he saw for himself what he had done. Taylor's eyes grew massive at the sight of the dead body before him, and his gaze searched around the throng, taking in the disturbed countenances of those surrounding him.

Gramus' eyes narrowed into a hateful glare, and he walked over to Taylor with thunder in every step. Without a word spoken, the turian, barely able to restrain himself, pointed backwards, indicating for Taylor to return immediately to the C-Sec headquarters.

A head or two was bound to roll at C-Sec after this, but Gramus Destin would be damned if his was one of them.

 

* * *

 

As Skayla sat silently in the shuttle with her temporary trainee, Thena Talis, she observed the frigid, turbulent skies which surrounded them. The oppressive clime of Gellix was anything but welcoming, but that simply proved even better for the mission – if the young Thena expected to become a respected soldier, she'd need to prove herself in environments more diverse than she could probably conceive of at this stage.

Skayla still remembered that one mission in the desert...

But she pushed it out of her mind, and looked instead at Thena again, observing her evident case of nerves.

Anyone who thought – and there were many who did, in Skayla's experience – that the legendary asari commandoes could never experience pre-mission anxiety were deluding themselves. It was certainly true that the commandoes represented apex killing machines (especially ones with a few centuries of experience under their belts), but this only meant that they were given the most-risky, sensitive assignments. There was no reason for any commando to get full of herself at any time, and if one did so, this was usually cause for immediate and harsh reprimand.

Of course, Skayla had excelled at her profession for over 200 years, and thus had learned to restrain her nervousness. When every new deployment signalled a potential brush with certain death, it was imperative that emotions be pushed entirely from one's mind, in favour of total, single-minded but universally-observant focus. There was a reason why commandoes usually trained for at least two or three decades before their first mission.

Partially out of sympathy for the new combatant, and partially to set her own mind at ease, Skayla commenced small talk with Thena.

“So,” Skayla began with a smile, “how long have you been doing this, exactly, Thena?”

“Not long,” Thena responded, attempting to hide the unease in her voice. “I'm only 79.”

“You have any family?”

“Three sisters. My dad was a salarian, but he died quite awhile ago, now.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Skayla assured with a compassionate tone.

With some hesitation, Thena inquired, “Do you have any family, ma'am?”

Skayla tried her best to remain warm, but the question proved a hard one to tangle with. She looked out the window of the shuttle again with a distant air, replying, “That's a tough one for me to answer.”

A few seconds of silence followed, and Thena now apparently felt it pertinent to try cheering up her CO.

“Well, I don't think I should be as worried as I am,” she chuckled.

“Why's that?” Skayla replied with a quizzical expression.

“Because I'm on a mission with the famous Lady Ice, of course! What could go wrong?”

At this, Skayla's expression merely became even more remote, more melancholy, than it had been previously. She simply replied, a curious sense of depressed annoyance filling her tone, “Don't call me that.”

Thena, caught off-guard by Skayla's rejection of her title – the origins of which the young commando had not been filled in on – merely apologized, saying nothing more.

After a time, the pilot of their shuttle announced that they were converging on their objective. Instantly, Skayla's demeanour changed, becoming significantly more reserved. The lithe asari immediately turned again to face Thena, and began briefing her on the mission objective, just to make sure the bases were covered.

“Alright. We're headed to an abandoned weather facility. The shuttle will land just south of the area, to avoid alerting the target to our presence. There's a deal going down between a Blood Pack leader and a batarian smuggler. We've been after the former for awhile now, and we have a chance now to take him out. There's just one problem.”

“Which is?” Thena asked, herself becoming very serious, as well.

“He's a battlemaster.”

Instantly, Thena felt her body fill with sheer, cold dread. Krogan battlemasters were said to be of sufficient strength so as to equal ten soldiers of any other species. The fledgling commando had already known who the target was before deployment, of course – yet hearing about them again didn't make things any easier.

“Relax, Thena,” Skayla spoke. “We'll just have to be careful.”

“What's the total expected enemy count inside the building?” Thena asked.

“It's impossible to say, but there's probably at least a handful.”

This was significantly less-worrisome for Thena; asari commandoes were more-than-trained to deal with everyday enemy units. For a split second, she felt a sudden upsurge of pride at the idea that she knew how to dispatch the rank-and-file so easily; yet her sense of discipline returned immediately, and she maintained her concentration. The enemy presence, for the most part, wasn't likely to be an issue – but there was still that battlemaster for them to worry about.

“What about the batarian, ma'am?” Thena continued, wishing to ensure she knew everything she could about the situation.

“He's not likely to be a threat. If we need to, we'll deal with him the usual way.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“We're here,” the voice of a third asari, the shuttle pilot, called.

“Alright. You ready, Thena?” Skayla inquired, still with unbreakable seriousness.

Thena merely nodded, signalling that the universal “no words uttered” policy had already taken effect.

The two walked stealthily towards the building in which their target was currently holed up. They would need to be quick; deals like this were generally brief in nature, their enactors understandably not wishing to stay in vulnerable areas for long. Not only that, but commandoes were expected to pack light – and the intense cold wasn't doing great things to their focus.

The one good thing about Gellix' weather was the poor visibility; it was sure to stop any nearby guards from noticing the two commandoes' presence. There didn't appear to be any such adversaries patrolling the outer perimeter, but Skayla knew better than to assume such things. That being said, time was of the essence, and she directed Thena to follow her closely.

In time, they made their way up to the main observation chamber of the station, just as drab and depressing in its architecture as the rest of the compound was. As the pair was approaching, Skayla made out the rough outlines of two sentries – presumably vorcha, considering the situation – and gestured for Thena to enter the room from the other side. Upon Skayla entering through the open eastern door, it only took a small burst of perfectly-aimed rounds from her suppressed Avenger assault rifle to deal with the guard a few metres in front of her. The muffled death-scream of the other aggressor told Skayla that Thena had favoured a more “hands-on” approach. Sure enough, when Skayla walked over to confirm the kill, she saw that the vorcha's throat had been cut open by an omni-blade, blood spurting from the wound onto the floor. By commando standards, however, this kill was sloppy – such a copious amount of blood made it hard to conceal the corpse from prying eyes. On any other mission, Skayla would have been greatly annoyed with Thena's lack of finesse; but right now, all that mattered was speed. Skayla had a feeling Thena realized this, and was therefore actually rather impressed with her appraisal of the second-by-second situation.

Regardless, the pair continued. They had already gained an inkling of where in the station the deal was going down, thanks to the requisite pre-mission debriefing. They were presently headed towards an auxiliary power station – a crafty location, considering most would probably assume it would take place in the main building – and it was only a short trek north of the room they presently found themselves in. The cramped size of the overall facility proved a double-edged sword: on one hand, it made efficiently getting around all the more simple; but on the other hand, it also meant that, in the unlikely event they were compromised, it would be nearly-impossible to get out unscathed. There were few places to hide here, but if the duo did their job correctly, they wouldn't need to worry about that.

The power station they sought was a short sprint from their current location, and Thena didn't even need to be told where to go next. The more Skayla observed the way her partner worked, the more she admired her. Thena reminded Skayla of herself, in many ways – disciplined, resourceful, and efficient.

The harsh sub-zero temperature, however, was beginning to get to the two of them. For Skayla, at least, the bite was more a signal of danger than anything – after around two centuries of deployments, she had more-than-learned to exclude everything other than the mission and her partner from her mind. Nevertheless, even the short sprint down the snow-obscured path leading to the station proved to be stark impetus.

Making their way inside the unassuming structure – there were no entryways alternative to the front door due to the singular purpose of the building – Skayla and Thena were able to hear the unmistakeable hum of a nearby generator. As they entered the generator room just ahead, so did they notice the thick distribution of sentries within. By Skayla's observations, there were two on the ground floor, and three above patrolling the perimeter walkway. It wouldn't do to get rid of them all; not only would this waste a huge amount of time, but it would also exponentially increase their risk of being caught. That being said, the room they required was behind a door in the northeast corner of the room, and therefore, all they really needed to do was get there safely.

With this in mind, Skayla again motioned for Thena to secure the eastern side of the room, while she herself secured the western portion. Thena looked distinctly uncertain this time; there was no doubt that she had noticed the three guards situated above, and was now wondering how she was going to maintain her stealth. The obvious thing was to stay around the perimeter of the room; the generators blocked line of sight from the other side, and due to the placement of the walkway, it was impossible to see anything directly below that vantage point. Thena had evidently realized this, and Skayla was more-than-sure she could handle it. She had to worry about her own issues.

It only took Skayla a few seconds of careful roaming around the dark, cluttered chamber to find her prey. A human male, presumably hired as temporary protection by the smuggler, was nearing her location. Skayla took cover behind the nearest generator, making sure she was out of the field of vision offered by the walkway above. She then remained absolutely silent for perhaps ten seconds, before the sentry walked directly past her. He stopped for a moment to Skayla's left, his attention apparently caught by something. Mumbling slightly, the guard continued his patrol route, allowing Skayla the perfect opportunity. She sprinted quietly up to the guard, and, with split-second timing and precision, slid a firm hand up underneath his right arm and past his neck, silencing his mouth. She did the same with her left hand, looping it underneath the guard's left arm and holding the back of his skull fast with a reverse grip. A nauseating crack followed instantaneously, as Skayla twisted and snapped the neck of the guard with alarming precision and force.

Quickly moving back into solid cover, she lurked over to the northern wall, just in time to witness Thena cleanly execute another human guard from mid-range with her sidearm. This was the second time during one mission Thena had resorted to decidedly messy methods of dispatchment, and Skayla was beginning to see this as an issue. In a mission like this, there wasn't too much risk involved with such techniques; but this was very far from the most elaborate or exacting form a commando mission could conceivably take.

_We'll have to work on that,_ Skayla thought as Thena met up with Skayla, quietly opening the required door.

This was the place. As soon as Skayla took point and opened the door, she could hear the muffled banter of the smuggler and the battlemaster as they hammered out the details of their precious deal – whatever it was about. Skayla took cover behind a nearby crate and observed the two figures for a moment. They were both armed to the teeth, as could be expected. The batarian – apparently going by the name of Dalgan Galot, according to the debriefing – was typically muscular, and there was really nothing especially distinctive about his appearance. The krogan, on the other hand, was a different story. A hulking wall of muscle and attitude, the scarred, harsh-skinned mammoth was dressed in full Blood Pack colours, creating a nightmarishly-imposing presence which even unnerved Skayla for an instant.

That wasn't all that was worrisome about this situation; there was an extra guard on the top floor. Luckily, however, the lighting was still poor enough to allow for another ambush strategy.

Skayla communicated a long and complex series of encoded gestures to Thena, signifying ultimately that she was to attempt to land the first hit on the battlemaster from behind. She couldn't kill him from that angle – not with his massive hump in the way – but she could stun him with her biotics. Skayla, being more experienced, would watch out for her, intervening once she had a clear shot at the battlemaster's face.

Thena, by this point, seemed truly rattled, though she tried hard not to show it. But such were the inevitabilities of life when one was a member of the greatest guerilla and covert ops force in the galaxy.

The young huntress began her pursuit, carefully choosing each and every step. Skayla was again impressed by Thena's ability to retain stealth without sacrificing efficiency, yet focused intently on the exchange between the two parties. They appeared to be on the precipice of reaching an agreement, and that didn't bode well for the already-small window of time Thena had.

“So, will you accept?” Dalgan asked, a sense of uncompromising roughness in his voice.

“I don't see why not,” the battlemaster replied, his suspicious tone directly contradicting his choice of words.

Skayla's focus stayed resolute, until she noticed something odd out of the corner of her eye. Momentarily diverting her gaze to the upper floor again, she realized immediately that the guard was no longer there. But, as Skayla's eyes darted around the perimeter, she noticed something even worse.

Scope flare.

The two commandoes weren't the only ones waiting to break up the deal, and, if her previous experience with third parties was any indication, Skayla knew that this new assailant wouldn't be content with simply letting others take their kill. Skayla felt completely powerless; the second she tried to alert Thena to the development, she was certain to endanger them both anyway.

She looked on as the sniper's crosshairs converged squarely underneath the battlemaster's head-plate – one of the few weak points of a well-armoured krogan. It hovered for a second, before the battlemaster turned suddenly. The sniper evidently misjudged their window of time, and fired an instant too late. The shot hit the protective plate covering the battlemaster's hump, and ricocheted harmlessly off of it.

With a shocked exclamation, the battlemaster whirred to the side, and immediately noticed the terrified asari commando behind him. A warlike grunt boomed from the krogan as he drew his M-300 Claymore shotgun, firing without any hesitation at Thena's body. The commando was thrown backwards with bone-shattering force, as she choked in breathless agony. A whirlwind of hot lead and purple blood signalled her peril, and Skayla, paralyzed by the sheer intensity of the developing situation, was unable to determine if Thena was even still alive.

Clambering over the cover of the crate, Skayla unleashed a Warp at the battlemaster, who was now steadily marching towards her with murderous intent. The krogan proved to be a highly-skilled biotic himself, and met Skayla's projectile with his own, detonating both of the orbs in a deafening reaction. The battlemaster soldiered on unimpeded, and Skayla realized with horror that she was outmatched. Her training relied largely on stealth, and the only contingency plan she possessed – her well-honed biotics – evidently was not up to par. Grappling with herself, Skayla's heart sank as she biotically lifted the crate she had previously been hiding behind, sending the solid metal box flying at the battlemaster.

The aggressor was luckily stunned for a few moments by the blow, but Skayla had no choice but to use this time to clamber out of the room. She ran recklessly through the exact set of rooms she and Thena had methodically cleared only moments previously, and she was certain she could hear the gunfire of various reinforcements as she did so. The fact was, however, that the mission had been compromised, and the only thing keeping her alive at this point was her stamina.

The sudden cold wind which hit Skayla in the face as she ran back out into the snow bit harder than ever, but still she ran. Observing a nearby short wall to her right, she clambered up and over it, not ceasing her sprint for a second. Tumbling back to the ground with an expertly-precise roll, she continued her run, but barked an order into her earpiece in between exasperated, heaving breaths.

“This is Skayla Nadrani! The mission,” Skayla breathed, “has been compromised! Requesting immediate evac! _Now!_ ”

As Skayla finally slowed her escape, she fell to the ground, exhausted. Her body temperature had climbed greatly from the exertion, and the cooling snow felt nice on her feverish skin. But there was another parallel which filled Skayla's mind.

_Ironic that a place like this is where the great “Lady Ice” ruins someone else's future._

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sira had been waiting anxiously for Skayla's return from the deployment for quite some time. Between the trip there, the transpiration of the mission itself, and the trip back, it had taken several hours, and this had not helped the asari mediator's mood in the slightest. Needless to say, she was relieved to hear the door open, immediately walking over to greet the surely-beleaguered commando.

“Skayla, you're back!” Sira exclaimed, a wide, welcoming grin on her face.

Sira was met not with the smiling face she had expected, but rather with a silent, troubled one. Taken aback, Sira merely got out of the way as Skayla, completely silent and with a sense of shell-shock about her, walked aimlessly to the nearby table. Sitting down at it, she stared into space, one hand clasped to her mouth as she remained enveloped in burdensome thoughts.

Sira, frightened considerably by Skayla's uncharacteristic mood, sat at the sofa opposite her lover, and attempted repeatedly to get anything out of her.

“Skayla,” she asked with careful hesitation, “What's wrong?”

Silence was her only answer. Skayla's brow furrowed, as if Sira's question had merely aggravated her emotions.

“Skayla, you're worrying me,” she persisted. “What's the matter?”

After several more moments of uncertain silence, Sira went into the nearby kitchen, returning a short time later. She placed a glass filled with a pale green liquid – elasa – in front of Skayla, in the hopes that drinking it might calm her nerves. To her dismay, there was no noticeable change in Skayla's expression.

After another minute or so, however, Skayla finally muttered, unmoving, “ _I just left her there._ ”

“Left who where?” Sira replied almost immediately, perhaps with too much eagerness in her tone.

At long last, Skayla made eye contact with her significant other, yet her stone-faced expression didn't relent in the slightest.

“Thena. I just –”

“Who?” 

“Thena Talis,” Skayla replied, remembering that Sira hadn't yet heard the name of her brief partner. “The commando I was asked to train and protect. She was only 79, and I just...”

Sira merely gazed at her significant other, still perplexed greatly by what she was hearing. Skayla turned her head away from the mediator in shame.

“I just left her there to die.” Skayla looked as though she was on the verge of tears, but in a panic, she suddenly snapped her avoidant gaze back to Sira, and insisted, “But there was no other way! I couldn't have done anything else! If I'd tried to help her, we'd have both died!”

The veteran commando's frenzied rationalizations continued, even as Sira walked up to Skayla and sat beside her, catching her in a soft embrace.

Sira didn't ever hear much about Skayla's deployments – a lot of them were too classified for her to be let in on – but she _did_ know that, in more years of service than Sira had even been alive for, Skayla had racked up a near-flawless track record. That was great for her career, but it also surely meant that Skayla wasn't used to failure. It certainly meant that she wasn't used to losing people.

“She trusted me...” Skayla muttered, tears beginning to form in her eyes. “She trusted me to train her and get her back safely. She was actually excited to be deployed with me, and I just...”

With that, Skayla found herself unable to finish her sentence, and her initial tears gave way to frenzied sobs. In her mind, she couldn't help but repeat Thena's slaying over and over again. The guilt was ripping at every fiber of her being, and there seemed no way to escape it. The event was horrific enough as it was, but if it hadn't been for that sniper, none of it would have even happened.

Still, she reasoned, it had been her fault. Commandoes were trained to expect every possibility, and to troubleshoot accordingly. In her attempt to finish the mission quickly, she had neglected to account for the unknown third party, and had gotten an innocent youth – not even 100 years old – killed in the process.

She had been sloppy.

Despite this fact, Sira stayed coiled lovingly around the grieving commando. Her warmth proved soothing to Skayla, as it always did, and the huntress found that her lover could say more with her passionate gestures than with any multitude of words she could possibly ever speak. That kind of unconditional love reminded her of exactly why it was they had fallen in love in the first place. Sira didn't care why Skayla was sad, or what she had done. She just hated to see her in such a way. The very idea made Skayla cry even more, and she found herself entirely unable to restrain her emotions as they flooded out of her.

After a time, Skayla slowly rose from the silent exchange, getting to her feet and walking a few steps away. She still carried a deeply-troubled expression on her face, and stared ahead at nothing in particular, no doubt retracing her steps in her mind. The more Sira looked on at her traumatized companion, the more saddened she felt. Even worse was the fact that she couldn't truly do anything to help Skayla. She possessed no analogous experiences with which she could relate, and therefore also had no way of imagining the trauma of such an event. Sira knew Skayla like the back of her hand, and the commando was a very proud, duty-driven asari. There was no way she'd take such an event as this as anything less than a crushing personal failure. Even now, it was obvious that the guilt was eating her alive.

And all Sira could do was look on, worried.

 

* * *

 

Skayla sat at a table immediately outside Apollo's Cafe, the beaming sunlight of the Citadel Presidium showering over her. Even after the last mission, the commando was finding it difficult not to feel somewhat uplifted by the rays as they warmed her body. If it hadn't been for her single-minded and incessant replaying of Thena's death in her mind, she might have even smiled.

Sira had convinced Skayla that night to head to the Citadel the following day for some relaxation. It had taken much persuasion, but then, that was Sira's line of work. Despite her agreement, however, Skayla had failed to find any respite from the failed mission.

Thena's gruesome and sudden death had proven bad enough as it was; yet there was something else clearly troubling the commando. So overcome had she been by instantaneous guilt and horror at that precise moment, that it had even affected her renowned focus. Normally, a 200-year veteran such as herself would have been able to take down a krogan battlemaster, albeit after a protracted altercation. However, her overwhelming sense of helplessness had distracted her from concentrating on her biotics – hence why they had failed. As if that wasn't bad enough, the sheer intensity of the developing situation had driven her to flee the scene, rather than keeping a cool head and bothering to approach the situation carefully. Ordinarily, a commando with as sterling a track record as Skayla's would have been able to salvage the mission – possibly even saving Thena in the process. Yet Skayla had slipped up where she had succeeded before. The worst part of it was, she knew exactly why.

It was a daily routine for Skayla to repress the memories of that fateful mission eight years ago, and she had gotten very good at doing so. Usually, such thoughts wouldn't even have entered her mind during a deployment; but as soon as Thena mentioned Skayla's infamous title, the memories had all come flooding back to her. She had managed to deal with them until Thena's safety was compromised due to Skayla's own inability to foresee a third party entering the fray.

_She was so young... Even younger than –_

Skayla's line of thought was interrupted by an old salarian, who abruptly walked up to her and sat across from her.

“Hello,” the salarian stated bluntly, making direct eye contact.

“Hi,” Skayla said, slightly unnerved. “Can I help you with something?”

“Yes, Ms. Nadrani,” the salarian replied, “I believe that you can. My name is Olis Renas, and I have a business proposition for you.”

“Sorry, not interested,” Skayla immediately dismissed. “I'm a commando, not a mercenary.”

Not one to merely take “no” for an answer, Olis leaned in towards Skayla, and, even more intensely than before, said, “This matter is of urgent importance. You would be unwise not to hear me out.”

Shaking her head slightly, Skayla merely insisted, “No. Sorry, but that's not what I do.”

“There's a plot at work, Ms. Nadrani,” Olis soldiered on, “And you, as a protector of your people, are obligated to know about it.”

At this, Skayla's interest grew. Reluctantly, Skayla sighed and said, “Go on.”

“I believe you are familiar with a batarian smuggler by the name of Dalgan Galot?”

Skayla's brow furrowed, and she asked, “Wait – how did you –”

“That's not important right now,” Olis interrupted. “What _is_ important, is that you realize he's more than a mere smuggler. He's a radical, and a very dangerous one, at that. Your people were misinformed, it seems.”

Skayla took a few minutes to register the information she had just been given. Whoever this salarian was, it seemed he knew a surprising amount about things he ought not know anything. The veteran commando was both concerned by Olis' proposal, and the fact that he knew enough about Skayla to come to her specifically. With this in mind, she allowed him to continue, hoping to figure out more of the situation.

Folding his hands on the table, Olis spoke, “More specifically, Galot is working on putting together a deal of some kind with various other parties. Right now, he's focusing mainly on the Blood Pack, but I don't know why just yet. That's part of why I need you.”

“This doesn't sound all that compelling,” Skayla responded, despite her inner concern with the relevance of this proposal to her last mission.

“I'm sure it doesn't, Ms. Nadrani,” Olis assured with frankness. “I have yet to inform you of the most worrisome part.”

“Which would be?”

“He's trying to re-enact the Skyllian Blitz... but on a far grander scale.”

This truly piqued Skayla's interest. The Skyllian Blitz had been an alarming and costly altercation for the Systems Alliance, and had brought the Batarian Hegemony to its current, isolationist state. It was no surprise that a batarian radical would seek to reprise the conflict, if he thought winning it would bring glory to his “wronged” species.

Her training instinctively telling her to maintain – as humans called it – a “poker face”, Skayla questioned, “Why do you need me to help you, then? Isn't this a matter for the Alliance to deal with?”

“The Alliance? Are you kidding me? They won't care,” Olis spoke, maintaining a convincing air. “No, it's best to come to someone like you. Commandoes are among the most-versatile, most-skilled fighters in Council space. In that regard, I suppose we share something in common.”

“Oh?” Skayla scoffed slightly, maintaining a cold aesthetic. “You sure think highly of yourself, don't you?” 

“Well, considering that I'm former STG,” Olis commented, himself not giving any ground, “I think I can afford to.”

Skayla was notably impressed at this statement – assuming he was telling the truth, of course. Yet there was something decidedly shifty about this salarian; something which told Skayla that, while Olis was indeed technically telling the truth, there was another layer to his words. This, however, was ironic proof of his STG past; subterfuge and deception were their stock-in-trade.

“You can't simply be looking for one ally, and one only,” Skayla pressed, wanting to know more. “You're gonna need more than just me if you're looking to take on _that_ kind of firepower.”

Olis merely nodded, and continued, “You're right. And that's why I'm also looking at recruiting a tech expert. Human, male – well-known for causing trouble at C-Sec.”

“Sounds like a real winner,” Skayla remarked dryly.

“He will suffice, Ms. Nadrani,” Olis replied with a hint of annoyance. “But, more importantly, I need to know if you're on board with this project of mine. This is your chance to help not only your own people, but potentially the entire galaxy, as well.”

“I don't know... this is a bit strange, to say the least. You haven't even told me what kind of threat we're up against.”

“A big one,” Olis interjected, seeking eagerly to hammer this particular point home as best he could. “ _Very_ big. Too big to let slide.”

Skayla merely stared for a few seconds at Olis, unsure of what to make of the situation. Whoever this guy was, he was good.

“Well,” the salarian suddenly announced, getting up from the table, “I am afraid I must be going. I have some other business to attend to. Take a little while to think about it. Meet me on the first commercial flight to Niacal in a galactic standard day if you feel so inclined. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, Ms. Nadrani.”

With that, Olis left, leaving Skayla to ponder regarding the sheer bizarreness of the encounter. A former STG had just asked her – and her specifically – to aid him in the taking-down of a batarian radical hell-bent on the re-enactment of the Skyllian Blitz. 

_You don't get that everyday,_ Skayla considered.

 

* * *

 

Olis Renas felt as if he had secured Skayla's agreement. He was privy to some information regarding a recent mission she had been on, and was certain from his profiling of the commando that she would buckle. There was no way she would pass up the chance to make things right, as it were. It was only a matter of time – a day, perhaps even less – before this fact would sink in fully.

However, the former STG still had another would-be fixture in his makeshift squad to sell on his scheme. He had a feeling that Taylor Burkland was going to be easier to sway, though, due to the fact that he was presently being held in an interrogation room for questioning by Citadel Security. 

Having already figured out his entire presentation, Olis arrived eventually at the section where Taylor was being held, locating the nearest senior C-Sec officer.

Catching the attention of the turian, Olis greeted, “Hello. My name is Olis Renas. I must ask you something.”

“Sergeant Gramus Destin”, the turian detective replied roughly as he reached out a talon to shake the salarian's hand. “What can I do for you?”

“I'd like to speak with Mr. Burkland at his earliest convenience, if at all possible.”

Immediately, Olis noticed a near-imperceptible wince of discomfort flash across Destin's face, before he turned his attention to the rows of interrogation rooms to his right. 

“What's this about?” Destin asked, a tone of suspicion in his voice as he turned back to face Olis.

“I've come to speak with him regarding a pressing personal matter,” the veteran slyly pronounced. “Please, I must speak with him.”

Olis was a charismatic speaker, as were many associated with the Special Tasks Group. The tongue, in many cases, proved far mightier than the omni-blade, so to speak. Despite his gruff exterior – and much to Olis' satisfaction – Destin appeared to be moved somewhat by the mock sincerity in the scarred salarian's large eyes.

“Burkland got someone killed the other day – and not just anyone, but a suspect in an important case. You expect me to just let you talk to him while we're still questioning him?”

“Not at all,” Olis stated matter-of-factly. “In fact, I'll gladly wait until he's released for awhile. Surely, you can't leave him in there forever, can you?”

Olis' last sentence was said with an unmistakeable edge of wit, and Destin again grimaced. The salarian was right – by Citadel law, they couldn't keep Burkland away from the outside for longer than a few hours at a time unless he had already been found guilty. That had yet to happen, and therefore, by technicality, Destin was at a loss. Ironically, the sergeant was beginning to see why the bureaucracy of C-Sec regulations was loathed by so many of his peers.

“Fine,” Destin finally growled, “You can talk to him. But let them finish their questioning first. I'd suggest waiting for at least another fifteen minutes.”

“That is satisfactory. Thank you very much, sergeant.” 

“Whatever,” the turian spat as he turned around, heading back to his desk.

Unperturbed by the sergeant's antagonism, Olis waited in a nearby chair for exactly fifteen minutes, to the second. Immediately thereafter, he got to his feet and asked a nearby C-Sec officer to speak with his potential ally. They conceded with much the same hesitation as Destin had conveyed only a few moments previously, and Olis made his way into the interrogation room. The room was soundproofed, and there didn't appear to be any audio surveillance tech – perfect for what Olis was about to discuss with the human.

“So, Mr. Burkland,” Olis began as he pulled up a chair opposite Taylor. “It seems you've gotten yourself in quite a mess.”

“Who are you?” Taylor retorted glumly, unsure of why he was being questioned by someone outside of C-Sec ranks.

“Ah, my apologies. My name is Olis Renas,” the veteran said as he stretched out a hand to shake Taylor's, “And I'm here to inform you of a pressing opportunity to clear your name.”

Taylor perked up significantly at this proposal, prompting Olis to continue.

“I have been made aware,” Olis started, “of the existence of a plot. There is a batarian radical who is rallying firepower with the ultimate aim of re-enacting the Skyllian Blitz. I am currently assembling a squad to handle this threat, as there appear to be no other parties interested in the matter just yet. More importantly for you, I am giving you a chance to leave C-Sec and make a difference in a far greater way than you can presently imagine.”

“Why do you need me? I'm not particularly noteworthy. I just got a guy killed because I screwed up my programming,” Taylor commented morosely, unable to shake his guilt.

“The fact is that you're a very skilled tech expert, Mr. Burkland. Yours is precisely the sort of expertise I require for my team. The fact that you are able to kill is just a further bonus.”

Though Olis meant this as a compliment, it was clear that Taylor thought of it as just the opposite; his sadness turned into a disgusted grimace, and he merely dismissed, “ _Get out of here._ ”

“Listen, Mr. Burkland,” Olis pressed on, heedless of Taylor's request, “And listen well. It is doubtful – _extremely_ doubtful, and that's putting it mildly – that you will be able to continue at C-Sec after this. You will likely be blacklisted, convicted, and spend many years in incarceration as a result of your mistake. I am giving you a chance to correct your mistake; to turn it into a high-point of your life.

“It's entirely up to you,” Olis said as he leaned in towards Taylor intimidatingly, “ _But I wouldn't pass it up._ ”

After a couple of minutes of grave indecision, Taylor ceased staring around the room uneasily, and quietly asked, “Suppose I want to do this – and I'm _not_ saying that I do, so don't take it that way – how do I sign up?”

“There is a commercial flight to Niacal early next morning,” Olis pronounced informatively. “If you join the flight and find me – and possibly my other squadmate – I will take that as enough of a sign.”

“ _Niacal?_ ” Taylor protested, clearly surprised. “That's kind of a strange place to go, isn't it?”

“Well, we're fighting a strange enemy, Mr. Burkland. I'm not aware of just why it is Dalgan and his people are headed to Niacal just yet, but that's why we'll be doing some in-depth reconnaissance work. This will be a good exercise with which you may – what is it you humans say? 'Get your feet wet?'”

Taylor looked uneasily at his lap once more. Despite his penchant for playing fast and loose with the rules, the young man still had a very strong sense of justice. He felt guilty that he was even contemplating leaving C-Sec to go on a vigilante mission with some salarian he'd only met a few minutes ago. But the salarian was right, and Taylor knew it. 

“If I do this, you'll have to promise me one thing.”

“What is it?” Olis inquired, genuinely interested.

“I won't have to kill anyone.”

Instantly, Olis' eyes narrowed, and grimly, he replied, “I can't promise that. That's preposterous. It's entirely possible you _will_ need to. Not inescapable, but possible. That'll just be more reason for you not to screw this up like you did your C-Sec career.”

These words hit Taylor right between the eyes, and, had he been less emotionally disarmed, he might have gotten angry. But Taylor didn't exactly feel as though he had the moral high ground in this situation, and as such, he wasn't entirely rational in his thinking. Olis, of course, already knew this – hence why he had favoured such a high-risk, high-reward approach when talking to the vulnerable human.

“I'll think about it, alright?” Taylor finally spoke, albeit with some hesitation.

“Good. Happy to hear it. The flight is tomorrow morning, remember.”

With that, Olis stepped towards the door. But right before he opened it to leave, he said, “And, Mr. Burkland?”

“What is it?”

“Remember to wipe your C-Sec records. We can't have them tracking you anywhere. Think of that as another test of your abilities.”

Olis closed the door behind him, and Taylor was left to ponder what had just transpired.

 

* * *

 

Skayla and Sira had rented a room for the night on the Citadel, and were both pleased with the accommodations thereof. Skayla's state of mind, however, had only been further exacerbated by her discussion with Olis. Her head was still whirring from the sheer insanity of the encounter. There she had been, lamenting the catastrophic outcome of her last mission, when suddenly a lone salarian claiming to be a former STG operative had appeared and asked her to join a vigilante squad, in the hopes of thwarting the machinations of a batarian radical hell-bent on re-orchestrating the Skyllian Blitz. It was unusual, to say the least... but what was more unusual still was the fact that Skayla was actually consdering it.

The more she thought about it, the more it made sense to her to join Olis and his mysterious tech expert. Dalgan's connection to the apparent plot had at once been surprising to Skayla, and she was curious as to just how her people could have let such a conspiracy fall under the radar. Not only that, but she needed an escape, a chance to get away from the failure that was her last mission. She was likely to be reprimanded for its outcome by her superiors pretty soon as it was, and it was unlikely that merely going on another official deployment in the next week or so was going to help her forget the last one.

Yet that was the problem, it seemed. This mission was unofficial, off the record; technically, it was an act of vigilante justice, and that alone made the prospect precarious for Skayla. She had dedicated the past two centuries of her life to fighting in the name of her people – to protect asari interests and sovereignty – and could not simply ignore that fact now. But her curiosity was too great to bear, and a part of her told the commando that she would regret not embarking. Of course, Skayla had long-since been trained to act and react rationally, but she had also been taught the importance of her intuition in the process of moment-to-moment decision making. At worst, if something did go wrong, she'd be more-than-able to defend herself.

...Assuming she didn't bolt at the first sign of danger, or let her biotics falter, again.

“Skayla, you still look so serious,” Sira said suddenly as she sat down beside her lover. “I thought you agreed to come here so you could relax for a couple of days.”

“It's hard for me to relax when I have so much to think about,” Skayla replied, vacantly staring out a nearby window.

After much silence, Sira finally crooned, leaning on Skayla's side affectionately, “Hey, I'm going to take a shower. Want to join me?”

Sira was generally far too proper and civil to openly flirt, and therefore Skayla was now certain that Sira was actively trying to cheer her partner up. But despite her best efforts, Skayla couldn't rip herself away from the mission – and Olis' proposal. Sira, in fact, merely represented yet another variable in the mix, so to speak.

If Skayla left on this mission with Olis and whoever he chose as his tech, there was no way she could inform Sira of what she was doing. This was necessary to preserve both the mediator's safety and her own. But what effect would this have on the delicate, loving Sira Belyris? 

Skayla turned her gaze from the sunlit window, and faced her lover in all her splendour. She was wearing a resplendent fuchsia dress, in the traditional asari style. The colour perfectly accented her skin tone and facial markings, and her slender, tall frame was in turn complemented – as it always was – by the svelte contours of the dress itself. She was an image of almost-otherworldly beauty, and Skayla, even in her current state, couldn't help but smile. 

Skayla kissed Sira gently on the head, causing the asari to giggle lightly. The veteran said, “Sure. Go ahead and get it started; I'll be right there.”

 

* * *

 

The shower had proven the most enjoyable release Skayla had undergone in a long while. It occurred to her that her stress had been accumulating over a great many deployments. In her mind, Skayla wondered if this hadn't also been a contributing factor to the last mission. At this point, though, Skayla didn't want to spoil her newfound good mood by thinking about that ordeal, and therefore, she redirected her focus onto her personal life for the time being. Though the remainder of the couple's night only consisted of laying in bed together and talking, Skayla felt an urge to savour every moment of the encounter. She hadn't felt this free of worries in... 

…More time than she could remember, now that she thought about it.

In time, Skayla's concerns regarding Olis' proposal also melted away from her mind, and she began to believe that she would simply decline to join the commercial flight tomorrow. Being right here with Sira was enough, and the huntress didn't want to torture her lover with lack of knowledge as to her whereabouts. 

Still, it wasn't long at all before the holographic night skies of the Citadel took hold, and the impulse to sleep became too much to bear. As Skayla lay there, gazing into Sira's endless green eyes, she basked in their evocative beauty. She smiled, thinking to herself about just how lucky she had been to meet Sira; had it not been for her, Skayla might not have gotten through the events eight years ago as well as she had. But whenever Skayla looked upon Sira, she also noticed another thing, one which frightened her considerably.

Sira was, despite her at-times forceful occupation, a pronouncedly slight person. Her frame, though tall and slender, looked gentle and unassuming. Sometimes Skayla wondered how Sira had become such a well-regarded negotiator, though she always felt a bite of guilt for this; in such occupations, intellect and empathy were invariably more useful than muscle or tactics, and Sira undoubtedly had the former in spades. Skayla often liked to think that whatever she herself lacked, Sira made up for, and vice-versa. 

At any rate, Sira was quite adept at cheering the battle-scarred veteran up whenever she was depressed, and playfully, Skayla showed her appreciation for this by catching Sira in a close embrace, closing her eyes and saying nothing.

“What brought this on all of a sudden?” Sira asked, her smile widening.

“I dunno,” Skayla taunted, “I guess I'm just tired.”

The two chuckled, and within minutes, they had fallen asleep. Skayla's last thought before falling unconscious was one of worry: she knew very well what was coming in the immediate future, but was powerless to stop it. She was getting pretty good at holding it back from Sira's attention, though. She hoped it wouldn't be a problem.

 

* * *

 

Sure enough, Skayla was there again. The familiar building, cloaked almost-completely in shadow, imposed a suffocating death-grip on the commando's thoughts. Skayla unleashed a massive biotic blast at the aggressor standing across from her, momentarily illuminating the area with a flash of blue luminescence. The adversary, another asari, was thrown against the wall, falling facefirst to the floor with a grunt of pain.

The downed asari's bright yellow armour absorbed much of the blow, and Skayla took no time in walking over to her. Turning her over with her boot, an expression of disgust and betrayal on her face, the veteran aimed her M-8 Avenger squarely at the purple-skinned combatant's head. Despite her unwavering stance, she found herself hesitating uncharacteristically, as if her conscience itself was stopping her from pulling the same trigger she had pulled countless times before. As Skayla's brow furrowed, she bowed her head slightly, and a single tear ran down her right cheek.

“I knew it,” the apparently-smug asari spoke at last, her breath somewhat heavy from the blast. “You can't do it, can you?”

Skayla merely looked down at her adversary's armour, an unmistakeable hue which spoke a thousand words at once to the commando. Unable to fully absorb what she was seeing, she stayed silent, her grimace getting more and more miserable with every passing moment. She noticed, after a few seconds, that her rifle was trembling slightly in her hands, and she instantly steadied it.

“Go ahead, Skayla! Do it!” The asari militant mocked with a perverse grin, her words like venom, “You have to, don't you? _Kill me!_ ”

Skayla found herself now wholly unable to look the other asari in the eye, such was her surprise and resentment. A few more tears ran down her face, but the commando was denied any sympathy from her quarry.

_“Kill me, Skayla! Do it! Kill me!_ ”

“Why? Why would you do this? Why would you join _them?_ ”

“It shouldn't be that hard for you to figure out, Skayla,” the combatant replied, her smile changing to an icy expression. “Don't you remember that deployment at all? It's only been a _century_ or so.”

“But why did you just give in? I know you! You're –”

“Right now, I'm yours to kill, Skayla,” the prey replied, Skayla still holding her down with uncompromising force. “That's what I am. Now why don't you grow a spine and _do it already?_ ”

“I..” Skayla stammered, unable to find the words she was looking for. Her whole body was trembling now, and she didn't even feel she could stop it. She was certain the combatant could now wrest herself from Skayla's capture, but she didn't. Skayla had a feeling she knew why, and this only made her feel more guilty than she already did.

Skayla, with monumental reluctance, began to pull the trigger. Time seemed to slow, as if her mind was forcing her to fixate on this one, damning event. She swore she could hear, in graphic detail, the catch and creak of metal on metal as the trigger locked into place, sending forth a bolt of plasma at lightning speed.

“I'm sorry!” Skayla shouted, though sure that the incendiary reaction of her rifle had drowned it out.

 

* * *

 

“Skayla? _Skayla? Wake up!_ ”

Skayla awoke abruptly, a frenzied gasp passing her lips. As she did so, the first thing she saw was Sira's panicked face. Her brow was cinched tightly, her green eyes wide with terror. It was obvious that, much to Skayla's dismay, the commando hadn't been able to restrain herself from reacting physically to the dream. She looked around for a few moments, noticing how her body had involuntarily curled itself into a ball. A deep rush of purple flooded her face, and as she rose to a sitting position on the bed, she looked away from Sira.

“Goddess, what were you dreaming about?” Sira exclaimed, her voice rife with tension.

“It's... it's nothing, Sira.”

“Obviously, it's something! I've never seen you do anything like that before!”

Skayla merely blushed even harder at this, and absolutely refused to make eye contact with Sira. “I'll rephrase: it's nothing you need to worry about, Sira.”

Looking incredulously at Skayla, Sira replied angrily, “You were crying and cowering, Skayla! I kept trying to wake you, but you wouldn't come to! It was like something was pulling you away from me!”

Sira was now on the brink of tears, and this hardly made Skayla feel any less guilty about the ordeal. Regardless, Skayla kept silent, her face probably more cold and unswerving than she intended. 

A commando of Skayla's age saw a lot of things, and some of those things just couldn't be talked about. Sometimes, it was because the recollections were too painful and vivid. Other times, it was because the information was too sensitive or confidential. In Skayla's case, she had been unlucky enough for both of these criteria to apply.

Sira's expression turned slowly to outrage, as she shouted, “Don't you _trust_ me anymore, Skayla? Don't you remember how we met on the Citadel? Don't you remember how we helped eachother through –”

“I remember, Sira,” Skayla remarked, her voice remaining intimidatingly assertive as she rose to her feet, “ _But it's nothing you need to worry about._ ”

Sira withered, defeated, as she sat back down on the bed. The asari mediator looked positively devastated as she stared down at her lap with intense fixation. She shook her head weakly, as if too hurt to protest any longer. Skayla couldn't bear to watch the display for more than a few moments, so she slowly walked out of the room, leaving Sira with her thoughts.

The commando sat down on a sofa in the main lounge of the accommodation, and stared blankly into space for several minutes. As she sat, she pondered Olis' proposal again. Her last mission had gone horribly, and Skayla felt the need to escape from it. But, she reasoned, it hadn't been enough to simply distract her attention from it; such diversions made her feel uneasy and guilty, and in fact only made her think more intently about the issue. She concluded that she would need another mission, one in which she could redeem herself, far away from the prying eyes of her commanding officers. The more Skayla thought about Olis' proposal, the more it made sense to her. She didn't even really care about how imminent the threat was, as awful as that sounded; she merely needed to prove to herself that she was still as sharp as she had always been.

But there was another consideration, as well.

When Skayla had seen Thena die, the event on its own had proven traumatizing enough. It had, of course, only gotten worse when Skayla realized her focus had been compromised by the situation. But with her dream recurring only a few minutes previously, Skayla now thought she had finally figured out the reason why she had been so rattled. Thena had been young – not even 100 – when she died, and this was not the first time Skayla had made a sacrifice out of a young asari during a deployment. Of course, _that_ mission had been different, in about every conceivable way – climate, squad situation, and most importantly, the lowered risk of death – but the memories had still come back to her nonetheless.

And now, the dreams were undoubtedly getting more and more vivid. If Skayla didn't do something to try to stop them from returning, she felt she was inevitably going to go insane. What was worse, she couldn't shake the undeniable feeling that this mission was somehow going to give her the answers she needed. She had to seek closure now, or she might never have another chance at doing so.

She had to go with instinct. That was all that was keeping her from falling off the edge at this point.

With a deep sigh, Skayla rose again to her feet, and stared out the window of the room with pensive apprehension. As terrible as it sounded to say, Skayla found herself more and more ready to join Olis and his tech on the flight to Niacal, despite how much it would undoubtedly affect Sira. The commando took one last look at their bedroom, and her frown merely worsened. She walked back into the room, relieved that Sira had fallen asleep, and retrieved the mediator's datapad. Heading back into the lounge as silently as possible, she immediately began typing up a goodbye message.

When at last she had finished, she left the datapad and message on the table, quickly packed various supplies – among them her favoured M-8 Avenger – and left through the front door, without hesitation.

It was late in the night, but she doubted there would be too much traffic on a flight to Niacal.

 

* * *

 

Taylor was sitting down at a table in a discrete corner of the wards. He had been moving erratically throughout the Citadel for the past few hours, trying to evade being tracked by C-Sec as well as he could. He knew it was inevitable that he would be caught, and that was why he had resolved to take Olis up on his offer. At least if he was on Niacal, there was no way he could be convicted by a force so relegated to one area of space. He just hoped he could bide his time until the flight. Taylor wasn't used to staying up around the clock, despite his occupation, and it was starting to take a toll on him already.

He had also been hacking into his C-Sec records at randomly-determined intervals throughout the night, always careful to set up as many safeguards as possible to preserve his anonymity. The fact that he had worked at C-Sec for three years as a tech meant that he knew the ins and outs of their systems as perfectly as any sentient being could, and this provided him with unique insight into his current fixation. Most of his records were now cleansed from the C-Sec archives, but with each new thing he destroyed, he risked having someone notice the missing data. Taylor was good at covering his tracks – very good – but even he wasn't invincible. Again, Taylor felt a hollowing feeling of inevitability. Still, it was better than doing it all in one sitting; the less time he took for each extraction, the smaller the window of time within which he could be traced.

Overall, he was satisfied with his work, if a tad paranoid. Taylor Burkland wasn't a man used to defying authority in such a flagrant way. Certainly, he was known for playing fast and loose with regulations, but such exploits were hardly comparable to embarking on a vigilante mission with two complete strangers after having illegally purged C-Sec records of his time with the organization. What was more, Taylor had always sought to make sure his ends justified his means: that is to say, that he always did what he did in order to fulfill his duty. Despite his maverick reputation, Taylor had always been a very honourable man, and he often felt that this was the only reason his superiors had kept him in service.

With every deletion he made, he felt as if he was deleting part of his dignity.

Had his situation not been so dire, Taylor would never have even considered abandoning the cause of protecting the most-important political and economic hub in the galaxy. But, with great self-loathing, he realized that he was fundamentally weak of will, and couldn't bear the thought of being imprisoned for what had been, at the end of the day, an accident (albeit a fatal one).

Taylor let out a great, resigned sigh as he finished one last string of commands on his omni-tool. With these last strokes, he had successfully completed Olis' test: he was now virtually untraceable by C-Sec, barring his being physically discovered. He had taken the precautionary move of obtaining a seat on the flight before he had started hacking his records; to do so was still a risk, but it was less so than if he had attempted it after the fact. 

The tech rose to his feet, reasoning that he needed to move again. He didn't quite know where to go next; variety didn't matter nearly as much as random unpredictability. Therefore, he simply wandered, keeping a close eye about himself for signs of being noticed by someone of importance.

He figured he was obsessing over nothing, but one couldn't be too sure in a situation like this.

After a fair while, Taylor looked back down at his omni-tool, observing the time. 

_Only a half-hour left,_ Taylor thought. _Perfect timing._

With that, he made his way to the port from which the commercial flight was scheduled to take off.

 

* * *

 

Unbeknownst to Skayla, Sira hadn't been sleeping when the commando had retrieved her datapad from their bedroom. She had simply been too devastated to intervene in the process. In the nine years of their relationship thus far, Skayla had never felt the need to hide things from the mediator. This phenomenon was a first, and Sira was both frustrated and hurt by it.

What was causing this change in Skayla's behaviour? Was Sira simply not trustworthy? Was she not intimate enough with Skayla? Was their relationship less stable than she had thought?

_No, that can't be it,_ Sira thought as she lay in bed, brooding. _We wouldn't have stayed together as long as we have if she didn't trust me._

The asari thought back to Skayla's night terror only a relatively-short while ago, and how it had startled her out of her slumber. As much of a jolt that had been, though, Sira had been even more shocked by the bizarre way in which Skayla reacted to the dream. She hadn't moved around a lot, though she had slowly retreated into a spherical position, one which immediately suggested total helplessness to Sira. This, in itself, had proved quite unsettling, but Skayla's tears had only compounded the issue further. Yet, despite trying to wake Skayla from her ordeal, it was only after several increasingly-frenzied attempts – and, Sira speculated, after the dream had run its course – that she had finally been successful in doing so.

What had Skayla been dreaming about? What could be so dominating of her psyche that she couldn't tear herself away from it until after it had already had its way with her? What could be so torturous for her that she couldn't even talk about it with her own significant other?

Sira was already aware that she wasn't likely to get answers anytime soon. She had only been made more aware of this when Skayla left without so much as a goodbye. That was another thing that hadn't happened in quite some time. The entire situation seemed at once bleak and confusing to Sira, and she reluctantly rose from the bed to observe the Citadel's holographic night sky. The darkness was a suitable shroud, mirroring the difficulty of Sira's situation; yet it was also the bringer of a time of solitude, and Sira wanted to believe she might be able to piece things together more accurately now that she was able to contemplate by herself. 

She knew, nevertheless, that it was a futile endeavour, and so, after some time, she made her way out of the bedroom and into the main lounge. There, she saw her datapad, lying on the central table. Surprised at this – with everything that had been going on in her mind, Skayla absconding with Sira's datapad had been the least of her worries – she immediately switched it back on, and read the message which greeted her:

 

_Sira,_

_You're reading this message, and that means I've already left. I can't really tell you why I'm leaving, but I can say it's only temporary. I just need to figure some stuff out, and I think I can do that now that this opportunity has come up. I know that, by doing this, I'm no doubt making you worry a lot, and I'd be lying if I said this was an easy choice for me to make. But with what happened tonight, I can't afford to let this chance slide. I hope you understand._

_Love,_

_Skayla._

 

Sira merely gawked at the message, re-reading it multiple times. She was completely dumbfounded, and her hands began to tremble. Sira had always been an empathetic person, and now she felt great worry – true to the message's prophecy – over her lover's safety. At first, she thought of heading out to meet Skayla and ask her to return, but then she noticed the message's conspicuous lack of material regarding Skayla's whereabouts.

Sira's fear merely escalated, and she collapsed into a nearby chair, staring with disbelief at her datapad.

 


End file.
